The Minds of Machines
by SugarCitrus
Summary: An unassuming Irken soldier attains his lifelong dream of being an Elite, and finally his life is complete. But what are these visions in his head, these strange but familiar voices? If his memories aren't his anymore, whose are they? Perhaps a Vortian girl can help answer that.
1. Chapter 1

I finally got around to writing the story that was in my head. I'm not sure how many chapters it will be or when they all will be posted, but I'm writing almost every day! The beginning is pretty slow because I have to set the stage for all the interesting stuff. These first few chapters are just to show you what the characters are like and how they interact with each other.

There will be two main characters in this story: one Irken, one Vortian. I'm focusing on the Irken's POV for now and will switch to the Vortian's in a few chapters. Hope y'all enjoy! No matter what, I'm having a lot of fun writing this and will continue to do so!

A deep hum filled the air, its source indistinguishable and ceaseless. It was the only sound the Irken focused on to calm his nerves in the few moments before he would be released into the arena. During times like these, he had always found comfort in that constant reverberating tone, as its presence incited a sense of assuredness and stability for a reason the Irken could never understand. It had accompanied him throughout his entire life, beginning even before the moment of his hatching, for in some far-off, untouched corner of his PAK's memory drive, there was a vague, perhaps even a fabricated memory of a low, soothing note. That inconsequential memory had somehow survived the transfer of information once his designated PAK had been attached only seconds after his hatching. Even then, while he had shivered from the frigid air that stung his tiny, goo-covered body, that sound had made him feel safe and protected.

Much had changed since he was a smeet though. He couldn't rely on anything or anyone to keep him safe anymore—that he had learned the hard way, as all his other peers had as well. It was a necessary lesson though; without it, he would have been weak, dependent. Irk, he might have been dead. It could be said for certain, though, that he would never have achieved as much as he was able to today, and for that, he allowed himself to feel a sliver of thankfulness. But not too much, as that was not the Irken way.

He sighed heavily, shaking himself out and hearing his armor softly clink with the movement. His body jittered uncontrollably—partly as a response from his most recent hit, but also because he was much more nervous than he let on. If he passed this one last test, he'd be set for the rest of his life. If not…he honestly didn't know if he'd be able to cope with the shame. It would be a lie to say he hadn't thought about all the ways he could end himself if it ever came to that. He just hoped…dear Irk, he hoped…

…But Irkens didn't beg, and they most certainly didn't have a higher deity to beg _to_.

He didn't want to die. But he might have to. The thought sent a wave of nausea throughout his trembling body. An Irken never admitted fear—neither to himself nor to others—but he was beyond such a notion currently. Because, standing rigid with horrible anticipation inside a dark, cramped cylindrical chamber with only that familiar thrumming and the sound of his own terrified breathing to accompany him, he didn't think he had ever felt such a powerful sense of fear in his entire life.

It wasn't to last though, for a few moments later, he jumped to attention as a short messaged was relayed to him on the screen on the chamber's sliding metallic doors, alerting him of the mere seconds that remained before he would face his opponent. What happened after would either be the greatest achievement an Irken soldier could hope to attain…or the beginning of his agonizing downfall. His fate would be decided in just ten short minutes.

The Irken didn't take notice as the ever-present hum had fallen away when he lifted his crimson-eyed gaze to the sliding doors that parted on either side of him to reveal the arena that would either make him great or end it all.

Chapter 1

Yesterday afternoon about 17 degrees Irken Standard Time.

He didn't think he'd ever felt such utter relaxation and peacefulness in his life, nevermind the fact that that's what he had told himself every time. He inhaled a slow breath and listened to the soft humming and clicking of sleek Irken machinery surrounding him and closed his eyes. The pleasing sound gently reverberated through his now motionless and reclined antennae as well as into the depth of his PAK, relieving the tension and stress that all the vital components within had endured throughout the week. During these sessions, he truly felt one with the machines. His conscious mind seemed to disperse in all directions, flowing like liquid through the circuits in his PAK, out the open ports, and up into charging cables, where it mingled with the thoughts and knowledge of billions of other Irkens in the digital collective.

It was during these too few times when he was charging his PAK that he actually felt like he fully belonged and was accepted here. Despite his respectable height and various notable achievements, all his life this little nagging feeling always weaseled its way into the back of his mind, insisting that perhaps he stuck out or maybe no one liked him. But he was actually rather ordinary, at least according to his peers. Fairly unremarkable would probably be a better description (which was generally a good thing in Irken society). Well, maybe his eyes _were_ an odd shade of green, but that was hardly a punishable trait, right?

He chose to sweep that negative little thought under the proverbial rug. Right here in this moment, he was self-assured, confident, and more than ready to train hard and help keep his empire a force to be reckoned with, despite what any lesser being thought of him. It was his primary duty, after all. Nothing else mattered, especially little inconsequential feelings of self-doubt. Such things were highly un-Irken.

His antennae twitched forward without his knowledge, seeming to have a mind of their own, picking up a tiny sound that he himself hadn't even consciously registered. He was still too far gone within the digital world that no small interruption could break his concentration. With still over half an hour left of his charging time, he was pulled unceremoniously back into reality as his ever-alert antennae picked up an Irken presence. He felt his mind come rushing back into his body so unexpectedly that it took a few moments to remember where he was.

His bright mint-hued eyes popped open and, at first, the delicate pink glow from the computer lights surrounding him seemed much too bright in the small dark room. Squinting, he arched his head up in annoyance from his place on the ground, trying to make out who had disturbed him during his much-needed break. The unique scent he picked up immediately told him this Irken was someone he was familiar with. He caught sight of the other Irken's bright crimson eyes and sighed heavily, dropping his head back down and rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"This couldn't have waited? I was in the middle of something," he mumbled. The Irken before him huffed out a short unsympathetic chuckle and crossed his arms.

"You were just in here a few days ago. Is this really how you want to spend what little free time you have?"

The Irken on the floor glowered up at the other and said, "And what about you? All finished preening today?"

The crimson-eyed Irken blushed and sputtered a little before settling and lifting his head haughtily. "Of course," he said, "you should try it sometime." It was well-known that this newcomer had an unusual affinity for grooming for much longer than was deemed necessary by the Empire; and, taking into consideration how little importance Irken society actually placed on the beautification of oneself, this particular Irken was quite a rare breed indeed. Perhaps he got his wires crossed somewhere along the line, or maybe he was trying to compensate for the unattractively long antennae he had had the disadvantage of being hatched with. He looked his companion up and down loftily, then raised his eyebrows and glanced in a disinterested manner at the cables ascending from the open ports of the other's PAK.

The Irken on the floor groaned. "Not even—just no."

"So be it, then. I guess you're too lazy to do some spur-the-moment training with me?" The crimson-eyed Irken gave the other a mischievous grin, arms akimbo. Ah, the Elite Trials were upon them, it was unavoidably on every Irken's mind.

"I was actually trying to forget about that right now. I just need a break," the mint-eyed Irken sighed.

"You can be a lazy smeet after the test is over. Come on Veld, your little dream world can wait," the other Irken urged. "I don't want to have to drag you with me. But I will. You know I will," he scolded. Veld, from his seat on the floor, stared up, scrunching his face in thought. He had really wanted to take it easy for the last few days until his scheduled test so as to not exhaust himself. Besides, his nerves were in a frenzy and the only remedy was to hook himself up to his charger as he was doing now. Still, a bit of sparring with Kad might help take his mind off the most important test of his life. He begrudgingly got to his feet as he disconnected himself from the cables. They slithered back into the ceiling, stealing away the last of that blissful, carefree feeling.

Veld sighed, deep and heavy. "Fine, might as well. Don't know what good it'll do this late in the game though," he grumbled as he smoothed his antennae back and followed Kad out. He was still in a sour mood, but Kad smiled at his small victory and nudged Veld with his shoulder.

"Cheer up. You stand a better chance than anyone else we know, and you know it. You're only second best to me," he teased. There was some truth to it, he admitted. He had trained all his life for this opportunity, and had studied his competition. That was why he had formed an alliance with Kad, one of the best fighters in their class. It was a strategic move; he had learned many of Kad's tactics and perfected his own technique with the Irken's help. They both were arguably some of the most qualified soldiers in their league, and would be up against many other highly-skilled Irkens who wanted the same thing just as much as they did. It was an intimidating thought, but Veld had acknowledged his potential and knew on some level he stood a very good chance. He could defeat any of his fellow Irkens with ease (besides Kad, that is). It was the final battle with the Elite at the end of the test that had him, well, more than a little worried.

Once an Irken acquired enough points during the preliminary battles, his final test would be to face one randomly selected Elite soldier. If Veld could hold his own against the Elite for ten whole ticks, he would pass. It would prove that he was equally matched in skill and prowess to his Elite counterpart. If not, he would have to wait twenty more years for the opportunity to try again. He tried not to think about that part. To be one of the failures—he didn't think he could even bear the thought. As he walked through the winding, circular corridors alongside Kad, dodging throngs of chattering Irkens dressed in identical red and purple uniforms, he felt his mind begin wander, a feeling of dread creeping in.

He sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, jittery with nerves again. Since he was a smeet, he had no doubt that one day he'd pass the test and be an Elite; there was no question to it, of course. But now, with so little time remaining before the most important day of his life, he wasn't so sure. What if he crashed and burned? He hadn't even thought about what would happen then. Shaking himself out of this anxiety-induced stupor, Veld decided to focus his attention on Kad, who seemed as confident as ever and not nervous in the least. Veld envied him for that. Kad knew he had it in the bag and nothing could tell him otherwise. When had Veld become so insecure of himself? He didn't remember it being such a prominent thought before. That definitely needed to stop. In a few days, he'd be an Elite.

The two had arrived at one of the many extensive training arenas in the academy, which was absolutely packed to the brim, as was expected. Every one of these aspiring Elites was scheduled to take his or her test at a specific time spanning a three day period, so each and every one was trying to get some last-minute training in. Because of their heights, both Veld and Kad had been selected for open slots during the first day. Of course, Kad's scheduled slot was much further up on the list than Veld's, which made him uncomfortable for some reason. Perhaps the pressure of having to perform at Kad's standard—most likely _after_ Kad had already succeeded—was the root of his anxiety. Should he fail this test, Veld would not only be disappointing himself, he would also be a disappointment to Kad. That, to him, caused him greater distress than anything else at the moment.

"Stop it."

Veld looked up. "Stop what?"

" _Thinking_. Stop doing it. You're giving _me_ a headache."

Veld rolled his eyes. Kad continued. "You have this certain look about you when you're thinking about stupid stuff, in case you were wondering. Your face always looks like you've just seen a Vortian porno for the first time."

Veld's jaw dropped at Kad's audacity. "Good Irk Kad, a little bit of a filter would be nice." He groaned in disgust. "Thanks, by the way, for putting that image in my head. Appreciate it."

Kad cackled beside him, dodging the slap that came his way after that.

It was all Kad's fault—he and his illegal streaming of Vortian television. Had it not been for Kad's incessant spouting of whatever vulgar or indecent garbage he'd learned on the UniNet, Veld would still be blissfully unaware of such obscene matters. It boggled his mind to think that (questionably) intelligent beings consented to such depravity. It only furthered his belief that Irkens were obviously the more civilized race.

But Irk damnit, Kad couldn't get enough of torturing him with it!

"You could always go and have your PAK wiped. Clean slate," Kad suggested.

"Very funny. But you're forgetting that they would probably question _why_ I had so much data regarding… _that_ in memory bank. They would inevitably trace it back to _you_."

"Even so, I'm too tall for them to do anything about it. No one can stop me."

"Shut your mouth and walk."

The two had finally approached the entrance to the massive training facility, thank Irk. After checking in through one of the entry stations, he followed Kad as he headed over to the armor compartments near the entrance to suit up. A row of twenty or so large glass tubes were lined up before them, all with several Irkens queued out in front. When it was his turn, Kad gave Veld a small nod and a smirk and stepped into one of the opaque glass tubes. Veld only slightly acknowledged the playful nod, too preoccupied with his thoughts to really care about anything at the moment.

He approached a glass tube of his own and squeezed his way inside, instantly consumed by darkness. Suddenly, an excessively bright purple scanner beam lit up under his feet and quickly skimmed over his body before cables descended from the low ceiling and expertly found their way to the open ports of his PAK, attaching firmly. Veld always found it rather invasive. It was a pretty uncomfortable process that he never quite got used to, even after a lifetime of doing it. After a few moments, data began to flow from his PAK to the computer above, notifying it of his name, rank, status, and any other information that would allow him out into the training arena.

Without warning, mechanical arms emerged from the walls, producing the classic Empire issue armor which swiftly and precisely secured the many different segments to the appropriate areas of his body. After only a few moments of the sound of machinery whirring around him and the sensation of metal gear being pushed and pulled into place, the mechanical arms retreated back from whence they came and Veld activated the door to let him out of the claustrophobic little tube.

To allow Irken soldiers to remain agile and unhindered while fighting, the armor was designed to be lightweight but still sturdy and protective. Veld adjusted to the slight change in body weight almost immediately and strutted over to where Kad was waiting for him. He had to admit, donning the sleek and intimidating armor, he felt powerful and invincible once again. He was reminded of his passion for combat and, quite suddenly, the unpleasant, nervous feeling that had been consuming his every day was replaced with that of excitement.

"See, you feel better already, don't you?"

"Yeah, whatever," Veld rolled his eyes, "let's find us a space."

"Won't be a problem."

Both Irkens made their way through the massive arena, having decided to first warm up a little. Veld followed behind Kad for a while, but noticed the taller Irken stop short at one of the nearest occupied training rings. He gave Kad a confused glance.

"Hey, you two there!" Kad exclaimed, gaining the attention of a couple of young soldiers who were in the midst of a little spar. Realization dawned on Veld's face and he rolled his eyes. Being tall definitely had its perks. "You know I don't want to interrupt your obviously important session, but I'm gonna have to ask you to find another space to practice."

The two wide-eyed Irkens seemed to require a moment to understand the situation.

"You want us…to leave?" one asked, noting the obvious height difference.

"That's what I said, yes? Come on now, off you go."

One soldier appeared disappointed while the other was quite apparently miffed, but both eventually slunk out of the ring, however reluctantly. Veld joined Kad at his side.

"We could have walked and found an empty one, lazy ass."

"Why should we have to do that when we can get one for no effort?" Kad insisted as he jumped over the barrier.

"That might be how _you_ can do it, but _I_ often find myself on the other end of interactions like that. You've never had the displeasure of being pushed around by people taller than you."

"Duh, I know. But that's why you hang around with me, so you don't have to put up with stuff like that anymore." Kad laughed a little under his breath, then added, "You're the only person I know who would complain about having perks that usually only tall Irkens have. I don't know about you sometimes."

Kad was obviously missing his point, but Veld decided to just drop it rather than actively try to get him to understand—because he wouldn't. This he had learned in the time since the two of them had met; Kad had a frustrating inability to empathize with even his closest peers. Yet, such behavior was to be expected from an Irken who had been advantaged in almost every way from the moment he was hatched—Veld couldn't deny that. This was the reason Veld had given up trying to get Kad to comprehend or identify with the misfortunes of others. Such notions just didn't incite a spark of familiarity in his PAK it seemed.

It went without saying that Veld knew Kad very, very well. He'd like to think the same was true for the other. Training and spending free time together was typical behavior for the two of them; after their morning group training sessions with the rest of their class, they'd accompany each other to find some snacks and talk while they waited for the afternoon session to start. At night, they'd usually meet up again for more training. They were as close as Irkens got to the idea of "friends", though neither of them would admit such a thing. It would be a waste of time and effort to have something as nonsensical as "friendship".

Kad jumped up, finished with his stretching.

"Ready?" he asked. "I want to warm up with something basic."

Veld nodded and made to stand up, but was immediately hit with a horrible, shooting pain that radiated from the middle of his back and bolted down his spine. He arched his back in surprise and agony and heard himself cry out as he slumped back to the ground. For a few moments, all he could do was try to breathe, as the strength of the jolt seemed to force all the air out of his body. His vision swam and he found himself resting on his side, his antennae scraping the rough floor uncomfortably. Nausea followed soon after and his whole body felt hot and heavy while his hands became rigid. His fingers curled up into claws as though they were tearing into flesh and they remained horrible stiff even as he tried to move them. A tingling sensation made its way through his extremities and for a terrifying moment, he thought he might faint.

He heard something then, something that seemed to come from all around him: crying. It was hard to distinguish from the static ringing in his antennae, but it was there—a female voice. It sounded as though she had been crying for quite a while, as her voice quivered with exhaustion. Veld didn't get a chance to analyze it further, because as suddenly as it appeared, it vanished again.

The excruciating pain had only lasted for a half-second, but was followed by dull, aching throbs that ran up and down his spine and even into his arms and legs. His own jagged breaths surprised him and he made a conscious effort to calm himself. Kad's concerned voice could be heard over the static-like noise that had assaulted his antennae from the shock, and he felt Kad's gloved hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly. His eyes squinted open—he hadn't realized he'd even closed them—to see Kad's usually almond-shaped eyes wide and worried. Veld tried to form words on his tongue but all that came out was a pathetic half-squeak-moan sound.

"Hey, are you okay?" At least he could make out what Kad was saying. "Are you hurt?" He didn't sound particularly panicked, but Kad had always been skilled at saving face.

"I don't—," Veld started, but found he didn't have the energy to continue the statement. He tried breathing slowly again, despite the painful pulsating in his spine. What had happened? It came on so suddenly and it was like nothing he had ever felt in his life. It _had_ to be a PAK issue, really, but the thought made his blood run cold. This couldn't be happening right now, not right before his big test.

He moved his hands under himself to try to at least sit up, to which Kad immediately protested but made no move to push him back down. Instead, he hovered over his prone companion with his hands outstretched, ready to offer assistance if Veld's strength gave out.

When Veld finally pushed himself into a sitting position, he took a few moments for the dizziness to pass and all he said was "Tallest, my spine," while trying to reach around to rub his back.

"What the flirk, Veld? What happened?" Kad asked, looking around to see if anyone else had noticed. No one had.

"I don't know, my—," he paused to take a breath, "—my PAK jolted me or something. Like a really painful electric shock." The lingering pain had significantly lessened at that point, but the aftermath of it still left him winded and confused. "Did you hear the crying?"

"Maybe you should get looked at," Kad urged, ignoring the question while warily watching him wobble to his feet.

"No way on Irk I'm going in to be looked at right before the test," he groused. "They might prevent me from taking it if they think something's wrong with me." It was true that every Irken had to be at full health with no prominent bodily injuries or PAK malfunctions to participate in the Trials. Veld was more than a little worried that this complication would interfere with his ability to perform, even though the odds were he could have the problem fixed in a couple hours if he went to have it looked at. But he wasn't about to take any chances. If whatever caused this spasm was actually a deep-seated flaw in his system, it might take more than just some debugging to resolve the issue.

Kad gave him a disapproving look. "I dunno, you're not very green right now…"

"I'll get it fixed after my test is over, okay? It won't hurt to wait a few days," he assured. Kad rolled his eyes.

"Flirk. You sure you feel okay? I don't want to train with you if you might drop dead any second."

"I'm fine. Seriously, all the pain's gone." It wasn't a lie; he actually felt perfectly normal. Perhaps it was nothing after all. Fat chance, but one could hope. He loosened up his shoulders to try to get his blood flowing again.

"Was there someone crying?" Veld asked again, but Kad gave him an odd look.

"Uh, not that I was aware of. Why?"

Veld shook his head. "Nevermind. Come on, let's do this thing so we can go get snacks," he teased, stepping back to put some distance between them both. He had to admit, the crying did worry him some. Maybe he could mention it when he went to get his PAK checked out.

"Fine, fine. But don't expect me to ease up just because you had an episode," Kad pointed out.

Veld smirked cheekily and lifted his chin to observe his companion-turned-opponent challengingly. "I was hoping you'd say that."


	2. Chapter 2

Still pretty slow, but I needed to set the stage for all the interesting stuff! Also, I guess I should say now that I'll be exhausting the whole headcanon in which Irkens go absolutely bonkers for sugar…might be one of my fav headcanons.

If it's not already clear, Veld has some PAK issues but Kad isn't exactly your typical Irken either. If they seem lighthearted and amicable it's because they haven't shown their true colors yet. They act like dumb kids most of the time but they've both been involved in some nefarious operations and have major violent tendencies just as all Irkens have. I figure that when it's time to battle, it's like a switch goes off somewhere deep in the PAK that essentially blocks any feeling or thought that isn't "JUST MURDER EVERYTHING." I guess I kinda feel like typical Irkens don't have much free will when that happens because it's so deeply engrained in their instincts.

The chapter starts off on a lighter note though lol.

* * *

Chapter 2

Kad licked some kind of too-sweet, brightly-colored dessert on a stick with his segmented, prehensile-like tongue which darted out to wrap around the sweet like a hungry boa constrictor would its prey. Shortly after, it slipped back inside the cave—uh, _mouth_ —from whence it came. When it emerged to repeat the action, Kad caught a glimpse of the wormy thing and his eyes lit up in amusement.

"My tongue is blue," he said to his companion, showing off his brightly-colored appendage. He stuck it out and wiggled it around for the other to see. Veld snorted, entertained by Kad's light-hearted attitude despite his own internal panic.

"Put that thing away," was all he responded to the other. Kad seemed pleased with however little recognition he'd received and immediately resumed licking the candy enthusiastically. Sometimes he could be such a smeet, Veld mused, but Irkens weren't exactly widely known for their emotional maturity either. They were destructive, cold-blooded warriors with awful tempers to boot and the most immense collective sweet tooth the universe had ever witnessed. They were also infamously sore losers prone to throwing intergalactic fits capable of destroying worlds if things didn't go their way.

Needless to say, the Irkens always got their way, or else.

It was quiet between the two of them for a few moments as they both walked the hallways encircling an occupied arena. Veld squinted as he stretched his arms out again, glancing out the hall windows to get a look at Irk's setting sun.

"You know, I'm sick of the same old routine. I'll be happy when I can do something that actually matters, maybe put all that training to use," Kad said, talking around the candy in his mouth. "A little recognition is long overdue, I think. And it's _soo_ boring around here." He drew out the _so_ for obnoxiously long and Veld wondered not for the first time when exactly Kad had picked up that manner of speech. Kad paused a moment. "Tomorrow is the day my life actually starts," he nudged the other with his elbow, "I know you're thinking the same thing. You don't want to be stuck here forever."

Veld nodded with a grunt of affirmation. Well, maybe he _was_ a little tired of his predictable routine. His steady, safe, comfortable routine. It was all he had ever known, and it made him unendingly nervous to think about how tomorrow would change all that. He would be shoved unceremoniously from his cozy perch out into a universe that wanted nothing more than to see him dead. But if it was the will of his Empire that he sacrifice himself in the name of his Tallest, he would proudly do so. He hoped it wouldn't come to that though. Irk, he hoped it never came to that. Eventually, though…well, it probably would come to that. Irkens rarely died of old age…

"And we'll go to those parties in Irkuza that all the Elite go to—and maybe see the Tallest. The Tallest go to those parties right? I think I heard that. At least when they're actually _on_ planet, I guess."

Veld scoffed. "Even _you_ aren't tall enough for that."

Kad's head whipped around at that remark, mouth agape in mock offense, "Did you dare just insult the height of your _superior_ , you lowly drone?!"

Veld couldn't help but burst out laughing, starting to feel less queasy now that the banter between the two of them was helping to lift the heavy feeling of anxiety in his chest.

"Just telling it as it is," Veld said, having subdued his laughter. "And you're like, what—three gigs taller than me? Come on now, _superior_ my ass."

Kad found it hard to keep a straight face and the corner of his mouth upturned slightly in amusement. "You're lucky I like you. You _Smaller_."

Veld chuckled and Kad shook his head in exasperation.

"No, but really, maybe if I could just touch one of the Tallest's armor—they wouldn't even notice me doing it—some of their tallness would rub off on me."

"You really want to risk being pummeled by the Tallest's personal guards because you think their armor has magic powers…?"

"Well, it wouldn't be the _worst_ reason to be pummeled. And there wouldn't be an airlock to throw me out of so I can rest assured."

"Let me know how that goes for you. If you survive, that is," Veld said with a smirk.

They walked in companionable silence for a bit, which gave Veld the opportunity to reflect on the conversation. Both Veld's and Kad's attitudes on social recognition were not dissimilar to one another; however, it seemed to Veld that his own desires varied slightly from his companion's in that he just wanted to matter in some small way. Kad, on the other hand, seemed obsessed with trying to prove himself to the Tallest, completely fixated on the drive to be the greatest. Kad was gonna go big, Veld just knew it.

"Hmm," Veld hummed in thought. So what exactly was he _himself_ looking for? "I just want people to notice me," he explained finally, "I want them to turn and look when I walk by. I want to know that I'm not just going to fade into obscurity when I…well, you know."

"If it makes you feel any better, _I_ turn and look when you walk by," Kad chuckled as Veld shot him an unimpressed glance. Actually, it did inadvertently make him feel a little better.

The two were silent once more, each deep in their own thoughts.

"Hey, if, uhh—," Veld stuttered aimlessly. "If one of us doesn't make it…"

"Whoa now, seriously? You're doing this now, seriously?"

"I can't really help it."

"Ugh." Kad slapped a hand over his face. "Don't think about that stuff too hard," he said after a sigh. "You'll waste your energy." When he saw the heavy expression on Veld's face, he smirked a little. "Come on, don't worry about it!"

Veld wasn't sure he was satisfied with that answer. The thought of failure—either Kad's or his own—plagued him and he wondered: what if they never got to see each other again? The thought made his 'spooch twist in a most unpleasant way. They had met at the beginning of his fourth cycle in the underground training facilities for smeets when their height classes had been combined. So much had happened since then and they had been together through it all. He couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed Kad wasn't more concerned about what their futures held.

"I can't help it," he repeated, "I can't really picture my day without you." He persisted despite Kad's disinterest. Kad was silent and glanced over, now looking slightly uncomfortable and uncertain of how to respond. Eventually he gave a little nod and glared at his sweet, now not quite in the mood to eat it. Veld decided to drop the subject after that. Getting Kad to talk about it at all was a wasted effort.

"Hey, uhh, I just remembered something," Kad interrupted the silence suddenly, stopping Veld in his tracks under the hallway lights. He turned to look back at him. Kad's face scrunched in thought, trying to form the right sentence. Veld thought he looked very smeet-like at that moment, his scarlet eyes large and innocent and his unnaturally long, velvety-looking antennae perking. Eventually he huffed out a sigh and said, "Eh, I'll have to show you actually." He then ushered the shorter Irken down the hall.

Veld appeared confused but followed obediently and the two came to some double doors that parted with a mechanical _whoosh_ to one of the many main academy lobbies. Immediately they were surprised as excited cheers and shouts echoed through the immense hall. There looked to be over a hundred Irkens gathered around an enormous holoscreen which showed live footage from somewhere that definitely wasn't Irk. As the two drew closer, it became clear the images were of the most recent Irken victory after a more-than-likely bloody and violent battle in the conquest for whatever unfortunate planet that was. The devastated alien city on the screen was choked with heavy black smoke and the sky behind it was a dreary gray. The familiar purple and pink armor of the Irken soldiers that were responsible for the horrific scene provided a jarring contrast to the background in which they were stationed—a sight Veld and all other Irkens had seen too many times to count. The Empire had been expanding its territory for many hundreds of years, which meant thousands of broadcasts like this one had been transmitted over the course of the Empire's gradual takeover.

"Which one is this?" Veld asked Kad, raising his voice to be heard. He shrugged. It was difficult to keep track of all the places that were being royally screwed by the Empire. Kad nudged another Irken in the crowd and asked the same question.

"Oskolla, this is the capital city," the magenta-eyed stranger answered back, yelling to be heard. A look of recognition crossed Kad's face.

"Ah, of course. What a trash heap. I'm glad we got ahold of it. Might be able to put some use to it," Kad responded. Veld nodded in agreement. He wondered about the natives. Actually, what did they look like again? Not like it mattered now. When it came to alien planets and cultures, Veld had always expressed a slight disinterest and preferred to just not think about it altogether. It was a bad idea getting involved with stuff like that, after all. Veld was apt to feeling…something for all those alien people being killed, but he also knew that sacrifices had to be made for the good of the Empire. So it was just easier not to think about it.

"I don't think it looks too bad. I mean, from a distance. It's big," Veld mused stupidly. Indeed, Oskolla was quite massive, and such a pretty shade of purple with swirly white clouds that looked like slightly melted whipped cream after being stirred daintily with a spoon. Veld fancied it an exotic dessert, perhaps fruity in flavor. It was most certainly the most delicious looking planet he'd ever seen.

Hm. He was hungry again. He quickly snapped his head up to the screen to dispel his fantasy.

Oskolla had become a melting pot of every intelligent species across the universe—an Irken's nightmare. The native Oskollan population dwindled as vast numbers of alien communities immigrated and a variety of foreign investors established rapidly growing industries that the planet's economy so desperately needed. Now, Irken control of the planet seemed imminent, and indeed, there was no force powerful enough to stop the Irken Machine. The thought of that pretty purply planet as Irken territory made Veld perk up a little with excitement.

It was clear that this recent act of destruction had ultimately been devised for intimidation purposes, a way for the Empire to flex its muscles. The Irkens knew the opposing army had neither the resources nor the manpower to fend off the Empire, so they made a quick example of the Oskollan capital to scare the inhabitants into submission. It was a common tactic popular with Irkens. No alien dared step out of line with several million Irken soldiers on the side anxiously awaiting the order to tear them apart. Those that did were quickly—but not painlessly—dealt with, and their families and communities suffered for the grievous errors as well. It was better for the unfortunate aliens to just keep a low profile and accept Irken presence.

"Why do we want this place again?" Veld asked to two other Irkens.

"Maybe more armories? There aren't any in that quadrant yet," Kad suggested.

"No way, we just built five last year. And Oskolla is so isolated," the unnamed magenta-eyed Irken responded. There was another explosion on the screen suddenly, and the Irkens in the room flinched in surprised but quickly recovered and started to laugh and cheer again. Veld glanced over at Kad and gave him a goofy grin, uplifted by the lively atmosphere.

Kad rolled his eyes. "Come on, I still have something to show you," he said, steering Veld through the crowd.

They started walking toward the restoration wing where the charging ports were located in a few dozen separate chambers. Veld had spent much of his time here lately. In fact, he was starting to feel his eyelids droop and the fatigue in his body from training; perhaps he had overdone it. These last few weeks had been physically and emotionally draining, not that he would admit that to anyone. An hour or two charging would probably do him some good.

"Ok, I think you'll like this," Kad smiled at his partner wickedly and pulled Veld through one of the automatic doors into a charging area. He could be remarkably frightening at times. Just as Veld was about to open his mouth to question Kad, the crimson-eyed Irken's PAK port opened and a mechanical limb emerged and dropped a small container of...something unidentifiable into Kad's waiting hands. Veld raised an eyebrow at the other Irken.

"Ok, I'll bite. What is it?"

"Why don't you take a look for yourself?" Kad shoved the small black container at the other. Veld clutched it in uncertainty, but after a moment, popped the little lid open and was assaulted with a scent so sweet, he almost dropped the container.

"Oh my Irk, what—," Veld cut himself off to concentrate on the scent. It made his 'spooch flip over itself and, quite suddenly, he was wide awake. He hadn't realized his antennae had pitched forward over his forehead and had to reach a hand up to smooth them back. The scent was unlike any other—yet strangely familiar—and he was unsure if he could even handle being in its proximity any longer. It took some effort to snap the lid back on because his body desperately wanted to experience more of it, whatever it was. His eyes were wide and he glared up at Kad. Surely this substance was very, _very_ illegal.

"What. Is this." It was more of a demand instead of a question. Kad burst out laughing at Veld's grave expression.

"At ease, soldier. I know what you're thinking. Care to take a guess as to what this stuff might be?" Veld's unimpressed expression remained unchanged, but he took a few moments to try to remember why that scent had been so familiar. He sighed to try to dispel the scent that still lingered in the air.

"No. It's kind of familiar, but I can't put my finger on it. Now your turn. What is this and where did you get it?"

Kad smiled devilishly. "Sugar. Want a taste?" Veld's eyes shot open and his mouth dropped. He glanced down at the container still in his hands.

"What?! How did you get…there's no way. You've got to be kidding me!" he sputtered, struggling with the cap once more despite just having closed it. Before he could get it open, Kad snatched it away.

"Ah, surprised? Thought you would be."

"But—our sweets definitely don't smell as good as that…" his antennae were still buzzing above his head obnoxiously.

"Actually, _this_ stuff isn't in our sweets. There's not enough of it for that. They use some artificial stuff instead."

Hearing this, Veld crossed his arms with indignation and his brows came together at the notion of such deceit. He'd been duped into eating the subpar stuff his whole life!

"Aren't we deserving enough of the real stuff?" he growled. Kad smirked.

"Apparently not. I bought this off another Taller some time ago. Don't know where he got it from, he wouldn't tell me." Veld's frown deepened. Kad smirked, as he was prone to do whenever Veld's face contorted itself into those silly expressions that made him look like a pouting smeet.

"How 'bout you and I sneak some before our tests tomorrow?" he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows. That got Veld's attention.

"…Why?" he asked suspiciously.

Veld played with the container between his fingers absentmindedly. "Well, real sugar like this—," he held it up, "—has certain, mm, effects on us, I should say. Oh, for example—increased stamina, heightens the senses, generally makes us all around better fighters."

"That…" Veld shook his head, "…that sounds like it might be against the rules. Like cheating."

"Why would you think that?"

Veld had to think for a moment, worrying his bottom lip, "Because it gives us an advantage. What if they catch us with it?"

"Oh, come on! No one will even know. There's nothing wrong with a little boost."

The mechanical limb from Kad's PAK retrieved the small container and tucked it away again. "So, listen. Meet me back here at, oh, 7 degrees?—and we can try some."

Veld still looked uncertain.

"You want to be an Elite, right?" Kad put his hands on his hips and looked at Veld intently.

"Yes," he snapped back with ferocity. Looking down at his feet, a silent battle waged behind his mint eyes. He _really_ wanted this—to be an Elite. He _had_ to have it. If a mouthful of sugar could help him get there…

"No one will know?" Veld asked with a serious expression. Kad's eyes lit up.

"No one will know."

* * *

I'd love to hear any feedback! I'm not sure if I have a specific schedule for posting chapter but I'm writing pretty much every day so they shouldn't be too far in between. I believe there will be a perspective shift sometime soon because there's also a Vortian girl in this story and we don't know anything about her yet!


	3. Chapter 3

Oh heck, thanks so much Fritter Critter for your reviews! It's so good to know that someone likes this so far! I mean, no matter what, I'm gonna keep writing but it helps a lot when there are people supporting you. I hope I don't disappoint!

I also made a little reference sheet for Veld and the Vortian girl that has yet to be introduced, just so you can see what they kinda look like. The address is: fav. me/ d9m3txm, just take out the spaces you should be good.

Chapter 3

Every twenty years, five thousand Irkens from across the planet are granted the most sought-after, prestigious status an Irken could be given—the title of the Irken Elite. To be an Elite means you succeeded; it means your life is worth something in the eyes of the Empire. As essentially celebrities in Irken culture, they attend exclusive parties in the tallest buildings in Irkuza, the Irken capital, and enjoy the luxuries of high society for the rest of their pampered, perfect lives. Even in death, they are honored and remembered for their services to the Empire; their favorable genetics sprinkled throughout the hatching facilities so that future smeets may inherit their talent and power.

And, of course, nearly every Irken in existence was after this same thing. It was a way for Irkens originally coded to be lowly drones to prove themselves and attain recognition and appreciation. Any Irken, regardless of height or coding, could take the test for Elite status (it didn't hurt to have a little bit of height on you though). Most would fail—that was a given. Most knew this, too. In spite of this, doubt was never strong enough to overpower that intense, desperate desire of Elitehood. Irkens trained rigorously for years to even have the slightest chance of defeating their opponents for the title. You couldn't afford to make a single mistake—every move had to be no less than precise. It truly was the ultimate test of strength and ability in the Empire's eyes.

Veld remembered a moment in time when he was no more than a wide-eyed smeet—well, perhaps a little older, but the innocence that shown in his eyes suggested otherwise—and he had stood watching with unwavering intensity and awe at an Elite training session taking place in an arena before him. It had just been a few days since he and his class had been released from the Irken underground, proclaimed mature enough to graduate to more advanced training on the planet's surface and serve the Empire to the fullest extent. He remembered wandering down to the arena all by himself almost in a dream-like daze and being a little more lost than he was comfortable with, eventually just deciding to stand with some other Irkens and watch the mock battle happening before him. At that time, even so many years ago, he understood well that Elites were those who commanded reverence and were ultimately considered to be the perfect Irkens. He himself had begun training for such a title soon after he had hatched.

Young smeet-Veld had stood looking out the glass, stunned into silence as the two Irkens on the other side battled with such profound ferocity and a terrifying degree of adeptness like he had never seen before. It should be noted that up until that point, he had seen many hundreds of mock battles between Irkens and had participated in just as many, and so this remarkable and unanticipated demonstration of prowess and skill seemed to electrify his very being and spark something within the depths of his PAK. Standing there, a very small and ordinary Irken among other ordinary Irkens, he had suddenly experienced something akin to fearful respect for those two veteran Irkens with the mark of the Elite on their foreheads. They had been wearing Empire-issued protective visors so their faces were hidden, but young Veld could imagine their savage eyes narrowed into fiery slits, their mouths warped into vicious snarls, their perfect and deadly teeth revealed and ready to tear into flesh. To an Irken who had still been but a child in this world, these strangers were terrifying.

Veld snapped back into reality quite suddenly, fearful of becoming lost within his own memories when he should be preoccupied with what concerned him in the present. It was amazing to him how far he'd advanced in so few years—and despite his height, too! His past self would be overwhelmed with awe at the Irken he was able to become, for he had become one of those fierce Irkens he had watched in wonder all those years ago.

This brought his thoughts to his current predicament. Tallest, he couldn't bear the thought of failing…

Not one misplaced step. Not a moment of hesitation. The tiniest miscalculation during that brutally long ten minute period could completely and utterly destroy all his hopes and dreams and that terrified him. Until now, he had been at least somewhat able to put that fact out of his thoughts, but the dreaded day had finally arrived. He sat in the charging chamber—where he had agreed to meet Kad—hooked up to the computer, staring unblinkingly at the wall in front of him. His vision focused in and out, occasionally blurring all the little pink lights.

He had been warming up and stretching all morning, being careful to avoid any exercises that would tire him out before his test. After, he had decided to wander back here for lack of anything better to do. There had been a few Irkens accompanying him in this specific charging chamber previously, but one by one, they had all since disappeared to take their scheduled tests. This was for the best—Veld preferred a bit of privacy sometimes, especially given the stressful circumstances. He patiently waited for Kad to show up.

Said Irken crept into the chamber shortly after, causing Veld to jump out of his skin. Kad laughed at Veld's obvious distress and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him. Veld's face was hidden in his palms.

"Hey, sorry 'bout that. You didn't short-circuit, did you?" Kad teased, poking the other Irken on the shoulder. Veld remained still and grunted, rubbing his eyes. His entire body felt rigid with anxiety, yet his restlessness urged him to get up and run around; he suppressed the impulse.

"I feel sick," was all he said. Why didn't Kad seem the least bit phased by what was about to happen?

"Good Irk, you'll be fine. Why do you do this to yourself?" Kad remarked.

"What I don't understand is why _you_ don't even seem a little bit worried. What happens today _will_ decide your future, you know," the other pointed out, looking up slightly. Kad rolled his eyes.

"Maybe you really _do_ need to get your PAK checked out—" he mused, but was quite suddenly shoved hard by a pissed-off Veld.

"You shut your mouth," he snapped, only slightly joking. "My PAK is perfectly functional!"

"Just sayin', you've been awfully emotional lately," Kad said and flashed a satisfied grin at Veld's perturbed expression.

"And _you've_ been a pain in the ass lately."

"I think it's cute you'd expect anything less of me. Now, down to business. That test isn't gonna ace itself." A familiar black container appeared in Kad's hands and Veld's eyes lit up in desire, much to his chagrin.

"My test is a lot later than yours," Veld said.

"And?"

"Won't the sugar wear off by then?"

Kad chuckled. "Veld, you need not worry about that. This stuff will last you all day."

Veld's eyes widened and suddenly he felt a little apprehensive. It's not like he had tried this stuff out beforehand…

"Hold out your hands," Kad instructed. Veld did as told, reluctantly. Half of the contents of the small container were carefully poured into his cupped hands and, once again, he had a great deal of trouble trying to keep his composure. The pure white crystalline substance fell smoothly into his hands like a waterfall and in doing so, it wafted the particularly strong, sweet scent up toward Veld.

" _Irk_ , this is…" He took a deep breath, annoyed at how easily he could be affected by a mere smell. Kad smirked at the reaction.

"Ready?" he asked, holding the small container up and eyeing Veld questioningly. The other took a moment to respond, still debating whether this was such a good idea.

"Yeah. Let's get this over with. I'm so tired and I just want this whole thing to be done." Kad nodded sympathetically then quickly downed the remaining contents of the container. Veld hesitantly followed suit.

Looking back, he regretted not taking to time to savor the sugary sweet perfection, thereby prolonging the feeling of the little granules melting on his tongue. Instead, he swallowed the entire mouthful in a second, having to struggle to get it down his throat. Despite having only tasted it for a short moment, his taste buds seemingly ignited with uncontrollable energy and he started salivating so hard it almost hurt. He was incredibly grateful the sweet aftertaste took its time to dissipate, but after only one hit of the stuff, he wanted so much more. However, he had yet to notice any physical or emotional changes, much to his disappointment.

"Ohh Tallest, that tastes amazing," he breathed and started licking the remaining granules off his hands. "I can't believe it's not illegal."

"Not illegal. Just hard to come by nowadays," Kad said, shaking his body out as if to expel excess energy. "I'm inclined to believe that the Empire doesn't actually _want_ us to get ahold of it, at least not us lowly soldiers. That might change after today." He smiled at the possibility.

"So…how long does it take until I feel something?" Veld asked awkwardly. Nope, still nothing.

"Mm, it's different for everyone. Once your blood's going and your adrenaline's up, you'll definitely notice a difference. I've done this before. Come on and walk with me," the other responded, ushering Veld through the chamber and out into the hallway. The mint-eyed Irken followed almost in a daze, suddenly reminded of what today was. He had to stop and lean against a wall because his anxiety kicked back in with greater force than before and almost left him breathless.

"I can't believe this is actually happening," he panted, trying to steady his breathing but failing. Kad backtracked to check on his partner, looking concerned.

"I told you to stop thinking about it so much," the other said. Veld decided he didn't want to answer back to that.

"I feel sick," he finally said, his antennae pinned as he leaned his head on the wall. Maybe taking the sugar was a bad idea. How was he to know how it would affect him? It might have been a stupid move ingesting a substance his body wasn't familiar with right before the most important test of his life. The overwhelming nauseous feeling in his chest was hard to ignore, and he couldn't help but think that the sugar might have played a part in it.

"Do you feel like you're gonna throw up?"

"I dunno…" Veld said, closing his eyes and sliding to the floor. "Maybe…"

"Well, _don't_. That's the last of the sugar."

"Oh, ok, since you put it that way, I've decided I don't want to throw up today," Veld snapped sarcastically, somehow gathering the energy to do so. Kad sighed, accepting the notion that there wasn't anything he could do that would change Veld's situation, and plopped down on the floor next to the other.

"If you _do_ decide to… _do it_ , don't do it on me," Kad murmured, crossing his arms. He had decided to stay and wait with his ill companion. Despite the intense nausea, Veld took a moment to appreciate the kind gesture and looked over at the other tiredly.

"Irk knows you deserve to be covered in vomit," he said with a smirk. Kad's face scrunched up as he observed the other Irken.

"You'll change your tone when you realize that you wouldn't have been able to do all this without me."

Veld chuckled with as much energy he could muster. "Don't flatter yourself. If not you, someone else would have snatched me up as an ally," he took a shaky breath, trying to settle his insides. "People _like_ me. I've never had trouble in that department."

"Maybe they just feel bad because you're so short." A thwack erupted immediately following the statement and Kad rubbed his sore abdomen while not at all attempting to stifle his laughter.

Minutes passed and Veld had buried his head in his folded arms that rested on his drawn-up knees.

"You know, I guess I might as well mention this while we're sitting here, but—," Kad paused, trying to formulate a sentence, "—I don't know. What you said earlier about us being split up…I've thought about that. Of course I have. I just don't want to think about it." He made eye contact with Veld, but suddenly his expression turned serious. "It's not supposed to… _we're_ not supposed to…"

Veld grew concerned at the other's change of tone. "What?"

Kad unexpectedly whirled around to fully face the mint-eyed Irken and growled under his breath, as if exasperated.

"You know as well as I do that we can't do this," Kad murmured, shaking his head. The confusion Veld was feeling only increased at the other Irken's matter-of-fact statement, and he tried vehemently to understand what exactly Kad was insinuating.

"Can't do _what_?"

"Can't do—" Kad waved his hands around in frustration, feeling awkward and loath to verbalizing his dilemma, "—do this whole _closeness_ stuff we've been doing."

It took a solid moment for Veld to register what had been said. "…Close…ness? What on Irk are you—"

"Just shut up for a second, let me think of another word," Kad grumbled, slapping a hand over his face. "This _togetherness_. You know, _attachment_ to each other," he sighed. "We can't do it."

Veld was silent, his brow furrowed as he gradually came to understand what Kad was trying to get across. He didn't know how to respond. He felt…hurt. His chest felt heavy. Kad had turned away with another heavy sigh, feeling and looking more awkward than he had ever been in his life.

"I don't see why it's a problem," Veld finally replied in a small voice. That was a lie. He knew why it was a problem.

"Come on, Veld. I don't like it either. I didn't want to bring it up, but…today's gonna change things and I don't know if I'll get another chance to talk to you like this."

Veld nodded almost imperceptibly in understanding. His eyes were downcast and his mouth was pulled into a frown. He was speechless.

"I like you. I care about you more than I care about a lot of flirkin' things. But we can't risk being made a mockery of, especially with Elite titles. And that's not even the worst that can happen. What if someone thinks we're… _you know_ …" Kad gave the other a look that communicated what he was thinking and Veld instantly understood. "I don't want anyone to think even for a second that there might be something wrong with either of our PAKs. People talk. Rumors spread. It could jeopardize everything we've worked for."

The two were silent for a while, the situation weighing heavily on both their psyches. Veld knew this had to happen eventually, but he couldn't bring himself to accept it. They had become too close and it was starting to become very apparent; even Veld himself had to admit it. The Empire firmly advised against such relations, as emotional attachment was indicative of having a weakness that could potentially be exploited by the enemy and usually implied a sinister underlying cause: an imperfection within the workings of an Irken's PAK. The Empire was of the utmost importance, and forming bonds with others distracts an Irken from duty and makes him vulnerable. That was why Irken PAKs were coded to override some of the more weakening emotions such as sadness, guilt, empathy, and affection. Yet, most Irkens remained completely oblivious to this little detail, entirely unaware of what experiencing such emotions entailed. The Irken race was not subject to the debilitating effects of emotions like other inferior races were simply because the Irken race was unquestionably and innately superior; at least, that's what was preached to the entirety of the Irken population since activation.

Veld stared at the ground. "So…what do you propose we do?"

The other hesitated. "I—well, I don't know. I guess we'll have to figure that out later…if we can."

Veld's nausea had been replaced with a growing feeling of anger. Why would Kad bring this issue up right now, knowing they both needed to perform well in a very short amount of time? He wanted to snap at his companion, blame the crimson-eyed Irken for just how awful he now felt inside. He kept his mouth shut though, unwilling to initiate an argument when he needed to focus all his energy on the test. His face hardened.

"I need to go," Veld said with resolution. He couldn't deal with this right now.

"Veld, wait. It's not like we have to cut all contact. We just have to tone it down."

"I completely understand," Veld responded tersely, struggling to his feet and steadying himself before making the move to walk away.

"Veld—" Kad started, jumping to his feet. The shorter Irken halted in his tracks but didn't turn to look at the other.

"Later, Kad. Seriously." Then he left.

As Veld marched down the hall from whence he came, Kad's shoulders slumped and he sighed heavily in dismay. Well, that could have gone better. It hadn't been his intention to upset the other, but he supposed he hadn't exactly carefully thought out the entire situation and its consequences. It's not as if he _wanted_ to distance himself from Veld, but neither of them had much of a choice. Bad things happened when an Irken garnered the wrong kind of attention and Kad was just trying to prevent a problematic situation that could very well end in disaster for them both. He knew—despite the other's reaction—that Veld had indeed acknowledged his plight and understood the implications; Kad just needed to give Veld a while to cool off and think.

The shorter Irken had always had the propensity to overreact and get a little too emotionally involved, which worried Kad a little. He feared that it was just a matter of time before Veld slipped up and someone noticed something was not quite right. It wasn't absurd of him to worry about his fellow soldier, was it? To be concerned of his wellbeing? He wasn't too sure what the Empire would think of that. Best to keep his thoughts and feelings a secret and do whatever he had to do to make sure Veld did the same, Irk help him.

He gazed down the hallway in which Veld had exited. Well, there wasn't much he could do now. Still, he couldn't ever abandon Veld at a time like this and decided he needed to at least watch over the other from a distance and offer support if necessary. That was a noble thing to do, right? Kad rolled his shoulders and began walking the hallway with jelly legs, hearing the rush of his own blood in his head as he tried to keep his internal flailing to a minimum.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Hi errbody, I got another chapter! We're gonna switch gears a bit and introduce the other main character who lives worlds away, and I'll be sure to flesh her out as I keep writing. There's a bit of trouble afoot in this chapter… :o

As always, I'd love to hear what you think.

* * *

A Vortian sat at her kitchen table with the holovid on the other side of the room turned on low and the windows open wide to let the cool breeze into the too-warm apartment. Her cheeks her stained with tears and she aggressively wiped at them with her sleeve as she tried and failed to finish her noodles. During times like these, she desperately yearned for her mother's kind, loving words to help her through the night, but that couldn't happen this time or next.

She sluggishly got up and trudged across the kitchen to put her bowl in the sink along with all the other dirty dishes that had piled up over the week. Because this old dilapidated apartment was all she could afford with her measly salary, she lacked the privilege of having a dishwasher and always had to settle on washing each dish by hand, a task she found tedious due to her tendency to procrastinate. She had been inured to living in subpar conditions and there wasn't a whole lot she could do to change it.

She walked over to the cramped living room and splayed herself out on the sofa to watch the holovid. Her rolled out yoga mat caught her eye on the floor before her and she considered working out a little—really, she considered it. But in the end she just didn't have the energy or willpower to make herself do a bajillion squats and pelvic thrusts. Maybe tomorrow night.

Flipping through some channels she finally decided on the same old reliable VortTV and slumped further into the sofa. It didn't really have the kind of programs she liked to watch, but it was the only station for Vortians made by Vortians that was offered by her provider. It was familiar, and that's why she liked it.

Containing her tears was easy as she closed her eyes and let her mind wander to different things; for instance, her next choir performance later this week. Singing was one of the only things she was decently good at, and fortunately it also served to keep her head above water in difficult times. The world didn't seem like such a dark place when she sung and one of her greatest pleasures was performing with in a group or perhaps with the aid of instrumentals. Oh, how she needed that sweet music like she needed oxygen…

A great clap of thunder sounded and she immediately snapped her head up in surprise, looking exhausted. After she had struggled to get the windows shut, she meandered down the crooked, dimly-lit hallway with the intention of brushing her teeth and crying herself to sleep. A sudden news alert caught her eye on the holovid though, and before she could walk away it flashed disturbing pictures of a city in ruins, black smoke rising in billows as the audio revealed the voices of those in distress, crying for the loss of their homes and loved ones.

The Vortian chewed on her lip in worry, feeling infinitely more depressed now than she had been previously. What was being displayed on the holovid was the capital city, not a great distance from where she lived in her modest apartment. She ignored what the news reporter was saying and instead focused on the unsettling imagery of charred rubble and bodies of all shapes and sizes being covered and carried away.

She had been waiting for something like this to happen for a while now; not that she welcomed it, but at least it reaffirmed her beliefs that Irkens were at least somewhat predictable. The Empire had occupied Oskolla's capital city for about three years now, and though she didn't fully understand the politics behind why the Irkens had all of a sudden decided to blow it up, she had a sneaking suspicion that they simply felt like some terrorizing was in order to remind the Oskollan government who they were dealing with. And, within a few years' time, the Empire would have probably completely rebuilt the city from the ground up—with proper Irken aesthetic of course—to give the false impression that the Tallest were forgiving leaders and would provide nice things to those who obeyed.

With another clap of thunder, the Vortian clicked the holovid off with disgust and went to go get ready to endure a sleepless night of tears and memories of happier times.

In the morning she felt no better and her eyes had puffed up from crying so much. She couldn't stop thinking about her mother all night, nevermind the breakup with her boyfriend that was still fresh in her mind. She sat on the edge of her bed and rubbed her still tired eyes, debating on whether or not to call in sick today. But no, she needed the money desperately and couldn't afford to miss even a day's salary. If she ever wanted to see her mother again, she really didn't have a choice.

Today would be rough, though. The kids would probably bombard her with questions regarding the Empire's attack on the capital city and she wouldn't know how to answer them. How does one go about explaining something like this? Better yet, should she even try? She knew very well that some parents did their best to prevent any news Irken-related from reaching their children's ears and she was sorely opposed to answering the calls of angry parents later on. It wasn't her place to reveal such grave information to a classroom full of impressionable minds even if she believed they all had the right to know what was going on.

She thought long and hard about how she might respond to the inevitable questions but once she stood in front of her dinky little classroom, all her prepared words had slipped away. So, instead, she made her morning greetings short and immediately launched into reading lessons. Or at least, she tried to—she tried so hard. When the first hand shot up she inwardly groaned and reluctantly called on the little purple Eonoxi girl in the third row.

"Go ahead, Moeana."

"Miss Cho, why did the Irkens blow that city up?" Oh dear, here we go…

She sighed and searched her brain desperately for an appropriate response.

"Well, you see—"

"Did a lot of people die?" another student from the back of the class interrupted.

"Qlor'ik, raise your hand first," she reminded him.

"Oh, sorry. My mom and dad won't answer any of my questions though."

"Miss Cho!" The hand of a Vortian in the front row shot up and the hornling waved it around desperately. "Are they gonna blow us up too?"

At the little Vortian's question, the whole class erupted into panicked discussion and Fai Cho resisted the urge to drop her head into her hands.

"Guys, guys! Quiet down!" It was too early in the morning for this shit. "I'm about to take five minutes off recess!" Instant silence. Worked every time.

But now that Fai had their undivided attention, she wasn't sure what she was supposed to say to satisfy their curiosity.

"Look, I know you guys have a lot of questions, but I really don't have all the answers. And it's up to your parents to explain these things to you, not me. What happened yesterday was…very tragic. And yes, lots of people were killed and lost their homes. And it's—well, it's scary, I know. No matter what, though, never let fear keep you from living your lives. It's times like these that we have to be reminded that we can never give up fighting for the things we believe in. We all believe in peace and goodwill, right?"

The classroom was a sea of nodding heads. Well, at least she was making sense.

"Then we must always work toward that, all together. What the Irkens are doing—it's the opposite. They don't want peace like we want. They want to scare us all so that we are easier to boss around. And look, I know you are all still very young and this won't pertain to you all for several years, but it is important that you don't let yourself be ruled by the fear that the Irkens bring. It's very important—more important than you know—that you stay strong no matter what. Now, that's all I can say on the subject. If you have a question that you absolutely need answered, come talk to me before lunch, ok?"

It was pure silence in Fai's little classroom as each student once again nodded his or her head in understanding. At this moment, Fai came to the realization that these kids probably knew a lot more than they let on. Suddenly they weren't children, they were little adults that understood a great deal of what was going on in their messed up world and they were just seeking answers that they couldn't get elsewhere. The gravity of the situation wasn't lost on them and, for this reason, Fai desperately wanted to tell them everything she knew.

One shy hand crept into the air, its owner a small Pharrok boy that had barely spoken a peep the entire year.

"Yes, Alo?"

"Well, this is kinda what you were just talking about, but not really…"

"It's alright Alo, go ahead and ask."

"Um, ok," he said in a tiny voice, "are there any good Irkens?" Huh, that was one she actually hadn't heard before. She thought for a moment.

"Well Alo, I suppose there are. There are good and bad people everywhere, right? I guess good Irkens are pretty hard to come by though."

"Oh. So what do the good Irkens do if they don't want to kill people and do bad things?"

Fai gave the little boy a regretful glance. "I suppose they have to do that stuff anyway. Because if they don't, they're—" how else could one say 'deactivated'? "—um, do you know what 'deactivated' means?"

"Oh, I know what it means!" a girl squeaked from somewhere.

"Ok, well, to all those who don't know what it means, it means that the Irken's PAK is turned off. Like a computer. And the Irken…uh, dies, pretty much. So that's why we only hear about Irkens doing bad things, see."

There was a collective "ohh" and then someone else piped up.

"So they're bullied into doing stuff they don't want to do?"

"The leaders are the bad guys, right? What if they died and then no one would be bullied anymore?"

"Guys, on at a time, please. It's a lot more complex than you or I understand. It's true that the leaders are the bad guys, but getting rid of them won't solve a thing. They'll just be replaced. The real problem here is the Control Brains. You never see them, but they're in charge of controlling the thoughts of every living Irken. If the Control Brains aren't taken out first, nothing will change."

"Ooh, I've heard of the Control Brains."

"Well, why doesn't someone just go in and shut them down?"

Fai sighed. She was getting in way over her head and she knew she should stop before things progressed.

"Ruknyu, only Irkens are allowed on Irk. No one has successfully been able to infiltrate their base of operation.

"Infil…whaah…?"

Ok! Time to change the subject.

"Alright guys, as much as I'd like to discuss this further, we're late for our reading lesson."

 _Groooaaan._

"Oh, come on everyone. Like I said, if you've got more questions, talk to me before lunch. Now, open your books and I'll try to remember where we last left off…"

Oi, as much as she loved them all, those kids sure could be absolutely exhausting. An expert in interplanetary politics and alien cultures she was _not_. Fai had next to no experience when it came to Irkens, and distrusted the lot of them for good reason. It was strange, though; as a child, Fai remembered her mother would often talk fondly about an Irken of her past, never revealing much more than what he looked liked and how they met. Her thoughts wandered to her mother and suddenly she felt awfully homesick.

Her mother had lived with her brother—Fai's uncle—for twenty-three years now, unable to start a life somewhere else (or better yet, come live with Fai) because of the horrendous poverty she lived with. It was because of this that Fai and her mother also had a difficult time contacting each other; Fai's mother didn't have the funds to buy a communicator and pay for the service. So, Fai and her mother most often relied on the written word to talk to each other.

Fai often dreamed about a different life. A life in which she saw her mom every day, where they lived in a nice apartment, had plenty of money for food and shopping, and took vacations to other planets.

A life in which her father was still alive.

She remembered everything her mother had told her about her father and how he had been killed by Irken prison guards as he and his mate—Fai's mother—attempted a daring escape. Fai had been there when it happened, just a hornling wrapped in her mother's arms. She was grateful she didn't remember anything about that night. She was too young.

But they killed him. They killed him and made a widow of a young wife and Fai would never have the opportunity to meet him. That's why she couldn't understand why her mother still held that one strange Irken in such high regard. It made her a little angry to think about, how much the Irken race had destroyed her life and her family, and how her mother still gave the damn bugs the benefit of the doubt. That Irken…he had been a guard. That's how Fai's mother had known him. But no matter how hard Fai had tried, she just couldn't ever get her mom to explain just _what_ had happened to him in the end.

Maybe he was still out there somewhere?

It was late in the afternoon and the kids had already been let out for the day, so Fai stopped briefly in a store to pick up some food for the walk home. It had gotten a little dark by the time she emerged, the stars just beginning to twinkle up in the sky and the air slightly cool. As she crossed the plaza something unusual caught her eye but it was hard to tell what it was with the poor lighting. Was it a cruiser? Yes, she was sure now that that's what it was—but in the middle of the plaza? She was about to turn away again when she caught just the slightest glimpse of cruiser's marking and almost had a heart attack when she realized it was an _Irken_ cruiser. Yes indeed, there was no mistaking the recognizable curves of the purple and red hued metal and the hot pink lights on its body that burned like stars.

At first it was difficult to digest what she was seeing. Irkens just _were not_ ever seen here; this city held no significant economic or political value to the Irkens, or so she thought. This place was much too dinky and unimportant for them to care about, wasn't it? Dear Vort she hoped that was the case. She hoped whatever Irken flew this thing here wasn't here to stay. Fai realized she had stopped in her tracks to stare and immediately snapped herself out of her trance, not wanting to linger at the scene any longer. Then, a child's shriek of terror tore through the air and her blood ran cold.

Fai immediately turned towards the source—the cruiser—and saw a small boy being thrown roughly to the ground. A posturing Irken soldier stood over him with a gun and shouted furiously at the child, who seemed to be frozen in fear. It was then that Fai recognized the little boy as…Alo! Sweet little Alo, her student. His eyes were wide and watering and he shook horrendously where he kneeled, unable to form words. Without a second to waste, she darted forward, her adrenaline surging, completely acting on instinct. However little passersby there were looked upon the scene, petrified as Fai approached from behind; it appeared as if the Irken soldier hadn't noticed her, his attention solely on the prone figure before him. She didn't even have a chance to think about what she was doing; her only thought was to protect Alo from getting hurt or even killed.

"No, wait! Stop!" she managed to shout just before arriving at the two. The Irken's antennae twitched toward the sound for a split second before he felt an unwelcome hand grab his armored forearm and try to wrench him away. On instinct, he whirled around, striking the assailant with his claws and growling threateningly, subsequently hearing a pained cry as whoever it was fell to the ground with the force of his blow. Fai lay on her side, one of her arms propping her up as the other went to her face. She tentatively felt around at the damage and found that her hand came away with a terrifying amount of dark Vortian blood that glistened under the street lamps. A sob escaped her as the realization of what had just happened hit her and she pressed her shaking palm to the deep gouges on the side of her face.

"Try that again, Vortian filth," the Irken growled down at her. With much hesitation, she lifted her head towards him, fear in her eyes as tears spilled down her cheeks, mixing with blood. The Irken had a brilliant magenta gaze but his face was twisted into a frightful scowl and it took Fai a moment to find her voice as she willed every ounce of courage she had to help her defend herself and Alo.

"P-please," she gasped, "don't hurt him. Please, he meant no harm."

The Irken raised his eyebrows as he considered her; for a moment, Fai was unsure if the Irken would respond—perhaps talking to inferior lifeforms was below him. Other civilians watched from the sidelines, all seemingly holding a collective breath as they waited for the Irken to either disembowel the two or skewer their heads right through. His voice surprised Fai as it finally cut through the silence. "I found this vermin rooting around in my cruiser. Tell me how he doesn't deserve to be punished."

Fai gulped and tried to compose herself. Oh dear Vort, this cannot be happening. "He's just a child. P-please, he doesn't know any better," she insisted, her throat trying to close up on her. Her voice warbled but she could do little to help it.

"And who is he to you?" The Irken was relentless as his unmerciful glare sliced right through her. "You obviously share no familial relation."

"He's…he's…" she had to stop to sniffle pathetically, much to her chagrin. "He's my student. I teach in a school—I teach children."

The Irken's eyes lit up in sick amusement. "Ahh, yes. Such an archaic method of acquiring knowledge. No way to raise a generation of offspring if you wish to utilize their abilities to the fullest." The Irken stopped for a moment, seemingly examining everything about the Vortian female currently curled in the most non-threatening way she could manage. "You're deplorable. No wonder you Vortians are so easily overpowered—none of you filth have the spines to stand up for anything." He sauntered over to the Pharrock boy who had, to his credit, stayed completely silent, and grasped him by the front of his shirt. The Irken lifted the boy as if he weighed nothing and tossed him unceremoniously beside Fai and he cried out as he landed. Fai's eyes widened in astonishment, unable to believe he was letting them off the hook so easily. Or perhaps he wasn't—did he plan to execute them right then and there? The Vortian instantly scooted over to where Alo had landed and embraced him in a secure hug as he shivered and wiped his eyes.

"Take this vermin and get out of my sight," he ordered, his piercing gaze never leaving Fai. The Vortian let out the most relieving sigh but didn't have time to revel in it, lest the Irken changed his mind.

Fai scrambled to her feet, helped Alo to stand, and made to rush away before the Irken's strong grip ceased her in her tracks. In that moment, she didn't think she had ever been more terrified in her life and couldn't stop the squeak of fear that escaped her lips. He brought his face close to hers and in his eyes, Fai caught a glimpse of a monster responsible for the deaths of hundreds or even thousands of innocents…a monster who lacked the most basic ability to experience even a drop of remorse.

"You best teach your students to _respect_ their superiors, Vortian. The Empire doesn't tolerate insubordination. Next time, I won't hesitate." He hoisted his gun up to her line of vision and flicked the safety back on, his grip on her arm so forceful that his gloved claws sunk into her soft flesh. She yelped, but rigorously nodded her head to show her compliance. Content with her submissiveness, the Irken unlatched his claws and shoved her away, watching as Fai took a moment to compose herself and then take Alo by the arm and dash down the street far away from the plaza. The Irken leaned casually against his cruiser, the corners of his mouth upturned in satisfied amusement.


	5. Chapter 5

Ohh man, I mean I know there aren't a lot of people waiting for an update lol, but I still feel bad that I've been putting this off for so long. So this is the action-y chapter and I don't know how good I am at writing action-y things, but it had to be done, it was important to the story. Next chapter will be about Fai!

Also, I use a lot of dashes. Just realized. But the situation called for them, what can I say?

* * *

Chapter 5

Irkens weren't religious in any aspect of their lives. Perhaps at one point in the past the species had exhibited some form of religious worship, but no one really knew for sure due to the deletion of that information—plus much more like it—to prevent the universe from discovering the Irken race's humble beginnings. The closest the Irkens came to such a concept as religion was in their fanatical idolization of the Tallest.

Veld remembered the images of some aliens on their knees with their heads bowed and hands clasped together after their little village had been destroyed by…something or other. Heck, maybe Irkens destroyed it.

Not the point.

Veld had wondered what those gestures meant. Why did these aliens do this strange thing and why did he see it all the time? The Irken had asked Kad about it once, and, well…Kad had unrestricted access to all of VortTV so his question was answered pretty quickly thereafter. He still didn't get it though. Why did aliens try to talk to a being that didn't exist? Did they think they'd get an answer? Or perhaps they had powers to talk to beings that _he_ somehow just couldn't see? It was all very confusing.

Well, the whole concept of praying to a higher being just became slightly less confusing, because as Veld stood in this cramped little armor pod with only the sound of his harsh, jagged breathing to fill the silence, he desperately wished for a miracle. Maybe if he clasped his hands and bowed his head like he saw those aliens do, he'd get one.

He didn't have the wherewithal to feel silly in this moment because he was too preoccupied with trying not to hyperventilate before he even got out into the arena. What was the proper way to clasp one's hands in prayer? Should he clasp harder? Softer? Kneeling was out of the question due to little floor space. Perhaps he could try to reason with this imaginary being that lived in the clouds. He should at least try to talk to this being, yes? Just to exhaust all of his options. He couldn't say that he didn't try.

"If there really is someone who is watching over me—a god for Irkens—please help me to…not fail. I'd really appreciate it. Um…thank you for your time." Best to be polite, he supposed.

Thank Irk for this sound-proof pod.

A piercing alarm snapped him out of his anxiety-induced stupor and he whipped his head up to see a blinking light that warned him that he had too few precious minutes before he would step out into the arena. Kad would have finished his exam quite a bit ago, but Veld had no way of knowing whether he passed or failed until after he himself had finished. He dropped his head back down over his clasped hands in an afterthought.

"P.S., please let Kad have passed his test. I hate to admit it, but I don't really know how to do anything without him." _Okay, now I'm done._

He watched the blinking light before him with a kind of fixation and felt the liquid sugar in his veins take effect as his adrenaline spiked. He felt light as a feather, as if movement required no effort even under all the armor. In the last few seconds, he wondered where Kad was—perhaps he was watching on the sidelines? He liked to believe that was the case, but he couldn't be too sure after the events of their previous meeting—er, argument.

The light began blinking more rapidly and just a few moments after, the sliding door whooshed to the side—Veld's cue to step out into the arena and face his opponent. His tunnel vision was immediate and he was grateful that years of practice had allowed him to block out any distractions that may hinder his performance. He was no longer intimidated by the excruciatingly intense arena lights hundreds of feet above or unnerved by his apparent isolation as he walked calmly down the middle of the vast expanse of the floor upon which he and another Irken would be trying vehemently to maim each other.

Well, this was his doom.

Across the arena floor stood an Irken Elite who was posturing with his PAK legs deployed. The front two sharp metal appendages were poised above his head as if he were a spider about to attack, and the back two were braced on the floor behind him. As per protocol, Veld couldn't see his opponent's face, as it was concealed by a thick but sleek helmet which donned the legendary emblem of the Elite on the forehead. He looked positively vicious.

But Veld could handle this.

Out sprang his own PAK legs in a fraction of a second to mimic the other Irken's in form. He held them in the air knowing he looked just as menacing as the Elite as his visor snapped down over his face, hiding his mint eyes behind tinted glass. This was his element; this is what he lived for—the few tense moments as he and his opponent stared each other down from opposite ends of the arena, calculating both the other's and his own moves based on such little information. Only this time it was different.

The sugar in his bloodstream was finally making itself apparent. _Very_ apparent. There was a terrible rushing sound in his head—not painful, but slightly concerning—and his hands began to shake in unsurpassed anticipation as he almost literally buzzed with energy. All in just a second, everything became so magnificently bright and clear and perhaps if he had had more time to process what he was feeling, he would have decided that it felt like his ocular lenses had suddenly been wiped clean of every speck and smudge. Every color became more vibrant and every sound more crisp than ever. The antennae atop his head swiveled to capture every new piece of information they could and curiously, he didn't find himself overwhelmed with what probably would have been sensory overload under normal conditions.

He actually felt pretty great. Powerful and unstoppable and more than ready to—

 _Woah, ok, guess we're moving now!_ He launched himself forward with such speed that even he himself was surprised. His PAK legs seemed to move on their own accord as he rushed the Elite, coming upon him in mere seconds. As expected, the Elite dodged expertly around him and Veld could almost hear him snickering at his opponent's irresponsibly direct attack. Without hesitation, the Elite slashed one of his PAK legs across Veld's vulnerable back but the other was able to side-step quickly to avoid the hit; he spun around to face the Elite who had bounded a few steps away.

The feeling had been coming on slowly, but now Veld was quite positive something about himself wasn't…right. He didn't feel like he was inside his own body, but watching himself from a distance. It was like a dream—or perhaps a nightmare (how clichéd). His entire body felt light—like he could fly away—and his tunnel vision grew so intense he thought for a terrifying moment he might black out. Of course, he had but a millisecond to consider the possibility, for the Elite launched himself into the air above Veld's head, intending to skewer the other as he came down.

Veld reacted just in time and ducked out of the way, instantly rounding on the other Irken as the Elite rose from the crouch he landed in. His attempts to slash the Elite across his middle were rebuffed and both Irkens took a quick step back to put some distance between each other. Veld's blood pumped so furiously that he feared his PAK might overheat. He growled in frustration; this was definitely not normal. Was it the sugar doing this to him? Kad hadn't mentioned any side-effects like this…

He continued to watch the fight play out through his eyes while he let his body move for him. He felt alien in his own skin and the sensation was getting progressively worse. The battle between the two Irkens was heating up quickly and Veld had no time to think about anything besides his strategy and preventing the Elite from gaining an upper hand. His movements were the result of split-second decisions and his full attention went to keeping track of what all his limbs—including his PAK legs—were doing.

As his conscious fled further and further from his physical body, he noticed just how oddly beautiful their skirmish was—almost like a dance. Veld would know. He would sometimes watch aliens do it on various intergalactic TV stations that Kad had managed to (illegally) access. There were all kinds of different dances, Veld had found out; some dances were slow, graceful, and smooth, inciting peace and awe as he watched. Some, in contrast, were rapidly paced and the movements were jerky but exciting. Irkens didn't dance—Veld didn't think they could.

Well, this was as close to dancing as Irkens would ever get, he thought.

A swift uppercut by the horizontal length of his opponent's PAK leg managed to catch him by surprise and his head snapped back violently, sending shooting pain down his neck and into his spine. He couldn't help but cry out a little in pain as he fell backward onto the ground, knowing that with every second that passed, his prone body would be open for further attack. In the time it took to blink, however, he had shot out one of his own PAK legs to sweep the other Irken off his feet. Said Irken saw the strike coming and would have avoided it had he not still been stabilizing himself from his own attack just a couple seconds earlier. The Elite lurched forward inelegantly, his PAK legs trying and failing to catch him on the way down so that they splayed out awkwardly beside him.

Veld heard the Irken curse and couldn't help but smirk a little to himself. Then, his PAK legs seemed to move on their own accord as they shot him downward toward the fallen Elite, who by this time had started to recover. When the two met in a vicious clash of metal, Veld felt himself leave his body entirely, his vision just a tiny pinpoint of light as his antennae picked up every miniscule sound originating from his opponent, like his quick, steady pants and even the clicks and whirs of the Elite's PAK working and processing. This was too much. His overworked senses were making him disoriented and dizzy but he urged himself to focus.

… _FOCUS_.

But it just wasn't happening. For a split second he surrendered to the disorientation and that's all it took. Once he let go, he couldn't regain that control. His consciousness was falling away and he just…let it happen.

Yet his body was still moving and fighting and from the outside it appeared as if everything was going right along as planned. He watched in wonder as his body ducked, leapt, and maneuvered its way around the arena skillfully.

What the Irk was going on right now?! And…wow, he was really kicking ass out there. Like, the other guy looked like he was really struggling to keep Veld—err, Veld's _body_ —in check.

He only had to hold his own against the Elite for ten ticks and he would pass. Surely the time was almost up? It was not like he could chance a glance at the clock above their heads seeing as he no longer had control of where his eyes went. It felt as though he was in a trance with no concept of time or space and that disturbed him deeply. How much longer was this torture to continue?

It actually wasn't to last much longer, to Veld's relief, for the arena's clock began its one-tick-remaining countdown that was signaled by a much-too-sinister alarm. In all honesty he was surprised he had even gotten this far in the first place, even when he _did_ have control of his body. The Elite seemed to adopt a sense of urgency at the realization he had less than one tick to bring his opponent down, which made Veld ponder for a moment if perhaps elites were punished if they lost a sparring match in instances like these.

That last tick felt like literal torture. He tried to count down the individual seconds in his head and came close to crying when the elite managed to roundhouse kick him in the sensitive spot beneath his PAK, making him pitch forward as his hands shot out to prevent a painful faceplant. A yelp escaped him and his spine lit up with fiery agony. Again. At this rate he wouldn't be able to stand up for days. He saw himself wipe the pained grimace from his face and swiftly turn over onto his back as the Elite appeared overhead, suspended like a spider with his mechanical legs aimed to pierce the soft innards of his prey. Like a heavily-armed, expertly-trained, mutated spider from hell that was also pissed off.

Veld did his best to roll out of the way in time but couldn't quite make it before one of the PAK legs darted out to pierce through his armor and into his side. The leg retreated back instantly as vibrant, pinkish-purple Irken blood dripped onto the arena floor and Veld instinctively went to clutch at his wound. It stung tremendously and he clenched his teeth together so hard he though his jaw might crack under the pressure, but he knew he was still in harm's way and couldn't afford to lose any more time. He urged whatever force that had taken control of his body to act quickly and fortunately his body seemed to have some sort of plan in place, as he heard his main PAK port whoosh open before his own holoshield attachment deployed to prevent another stabbing just in the nick of time.

He grunted at the force of the other's PAK leg colliding with the shield, which made fizzing and crackling noises as it struggled against the opposing weapon. The Elite's PAK leg bounced away, but not after inflicting significant damage; Veld knew his PAK wouldn't be able to sustain the shield for much longer and his mind went blank as he watched himself brace his hands on the interior of it in hopes of reinforcing it. It was in that exact moment that he understood the reason behind why, throughout the entirety of the battle, this terrifying out-of-body experience had occurred: his PAK had taken over. Well, it was true that the PAK was always responsible for an Irken's movements, but it never dictated a decision without the command of the organic brain. In this scenario, it appeared to Veld as though the PAK just went over his organic brain's metaphorical head altogether, acting on autopilot as it defended his body against the attacker while Veld's consciousness looked on, unable to intervene. But…why? What could have caused such a thing?

Oh Irk, please no. He looked on numbly as the Elite balanced himself again and came back for more.

Veld flinched away in panic and held his breath as he caught a glimpse of a bright flash of metal…

…And even after the alarm sounded—the alarm that declared the match over—he found he couldn't release his breath. Frozen to the spot, he dared crack his eyes open to see the elite standing above him, the PAK legs still poised to strike. The elite seemed to hesitate for a brief moment as if he actually considered just skewering Veld through even after the match had ended (as an Irken is wont to do), but probably decided he'd rather forgo the discipline he'd receive from his higher-ups for killing a prospective elite. Finally, he sheathed his PAK legs in disappointment, glared icily at his opponent still lying prostrate on the ground, turned on his heel, and walked away without a word, his head held high.

The holoshield had long since disintegrated but Veld still didn't have control of his own body.

Yet, he had only moments to realize his panic before a familiar white hot pain once again shot right down his spine and whatever breath he had mustered up was forced from his body. This time, he didn't even have the air available within him to yelp in pain and felt like he was suffocating, grasping his hands to his neck instinctively while spasms wracked his body. Fearful tears escaped his darkening eyes and he truly believed that he might die like this, crumpled pathetically on the ground in the worst pain imaginable while hundreds of people looked on.

The world started to close around him. There's always that split-second that you know you're about to go out, but can't do anything about it. Even if your brain could still put together a sentence in your head, your mouth wouldn't be able to form the words to tell anyone of what was about to happen. Maybe you can still hear what's going on around you, but you can't discern what people are saying or what's happening. Your hands freeze up and suddenly you feel more nauseous than you've ever felt in your life. If anyone were to touch you, they'd find your skin to be uncomfortably warm and clammy.

All in all, blacking out was a horrible experience, but Veld welcomed any kind of reprieve from the piercing pain in his back as well as the sensation of being suffocated for no obvious reason.

It must be noted that all this happened in mere seconds, but to Veld, those seconds couldn't have ticked by longer until an intense coldness pressed down upon him and forced him into unconsciousness.

Worst. Day. Ever.


End file.
